


All the Little Maybes

by illa_dixit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship(?), Asexuality, Character Study, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illa_dixit/pseuds/illa_dixit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caring, like everything else in life, requires practice.</p>
<p>A short character study of Sherlock's relationship with John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Little Maybes

**Author's Note:**

> Had lots of feels and something approaching a plot, decided to experiment with writing Sherlock. I've never tried before, so hopefully his voice reads okay. : )

John, Sherlock concludes, has a migraine. This is inconvenient, but not unmanageable: he’s nearly done with the case, just needs to lord it over Lestrade for another minute or so, buy a little time while everything in his brain finishes untangling and he’s left, beyond doubt, with an answer. John has been helpful, producing several common household objects that could have left the intriguing dent in the side of the victim’s head when prompted.

But that’s just it, then, he hasn’t said anything without prompting. Normally, there are a few questions, or muttered sarcastic comments that Lestrade snorts at and Sherlock pretends not to hear. And then John had gone and winced and made an aborted motion when Anderson had slammed the door shut, and Sherlock’s observations had neatly fallen into place.

What John probably needed was a quiet, dark place with less sensory stimulation than generally found at a crime scene, and Sherlock will make sure he gets that, but for now it’ll have to wait because they’re halfway across the city from 221B and it will take them some time to get back even at this hour.

Outside of the dismal apartment, a tiny dog starts yapping, and the color begins to drain out of John’s face. Sherlock starts speaking faster, wanders over towards Donovan and deftly lifts the small bottle of painkillers she keeps in her purse. They won’t fix anything, not for a migraine, but it might at least take the edge off.

A car alarm starts blaring somewhere, John goes an intriguing but worrying shade of grey, and Sherlock makes an executive decision. He steers John by the shoulders over to the door, yelling the painfully obvious answer to the puzzle at Lestrade over his shoulder (as gently as possible without seeming out of character) as they leave. Descending the stairs, he presses two of the pills he’d stolen from Donovan into John’s palm, and is abruptly even more worried when John takes them.

Firstly, this displays a (slightly concerning) level of trust that Sherlock had previously been pretty sure he’d lost after the Incident with the Coffee. Secondly, John never takes medication unless it is absolutely necessary, despite often putting up a very loud campaign for Sherlock not to do the same.

They get lucky and it’s easy to grab a cab. John, probably resigned to the fact that Sherlock has figured, closes his eyes and leans his head back against the seat.

Sherlock watches.

Between them (though mostly through John’s stubborn streak), they have built a functioning relationship, of sorts. Sherlock is confident that John is unaware of exactly what extremes he is willing to go to in order to keep him safe. It’s not really romantic love, as such, and it’s not sexual either – because Sherlock simply doesn’t care, not about that. But there is a connection, a feeling of security and warmth that he hadn’t known he was craving until John walked into his life. What they have is comfortable and, though he knows that John would be open to more if the conversation started, Sherlock hasn’t ever really wanted it to change.

But, he now allows, change is a necessary and driving force in the world. He may as well control which direction it flows in, on some scale.

John’s hand rests on the seat between them. If this is a comfort he can provide, Sherlock will do so. Contact has always been unnecessary for him, but John thrives on touch.

Their fingers slot together as if it was meant to be.

(Maybe it is.)


End file.
